


Swords and Shields

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Hiccup wakes up the morning after, missing his father.





	Swords and Shields

**Swords and Shields**

**-**

He woke up sore and groggy, with what felt like claws scraping down the inside of his throat. His eyes were gritty, stinging from the morning light that came in through the window. Downstairs, he could hear his father shuffling and moving around. The clatter of plates and Night Fury claws on the floorboards were the only sounds breaking the morning chirping of Terrible Terrors outside. 

His hand reached over the side of the bed for his prosthesis, but after a moment of blind fumbling, he realized he’d never removed his foot the night before. Mildly surprised, he rubbed his face with his palms and sat up, dragging himself to his feet. The blood rushed from his head, and he stumbled before catching himself against the wall. Sleep still clung to his thoughts, fluttering with dragons’ wings and glittering icicles. It was only by a miracle that he didn’t trip down the stairs. 

Hiccup paused before he reached the bottom, though, hand going still on the back of his neck. He’d been expecting his father’s bulky frame to fill the room, not his frazzled-looking girlfriend as she organized various pots and pans and baskets of food atop the kitchen table. 

And then it hit him. 

“Oh—” Astrid looked up at him with a tired smile. “You’re awake.” The Night Fury at her feet gave him a gummy grin and a wiggle of his tail, bounding over to press his head into his rider’s side. “I came over early to take Toothless flying so you could sleep. Gobber’s already trafficking construction requests, and your mom’s handling the overflow at the dragon stables.” She looked as exhausted as he felt, with dark circles smudged beneath her eyes and frizzy whisps of hair coming free from her braid, but her voice was chipper as she pulled a plate from the cabinet and began piling food on top. “People have been bringing things all morning— I’m surprised nobody woke you. Here— come eat. The twins are handling the damage at the docks, and Fishlegs has the Nadders on ice-melting duty. Snot’s with his dad— Spitelout’s not looking good. Things’ll be okay, though, come sit. Did you even eat last night?”

Hiccup shook his head numbly, feeling his chest crumple under the weight of realization. Her cheerful babble was her own effort to relieve some of his stress, but it was suddenly all hitting him at once. The sight of his father moving around the house— the sun glimmering on his mantle, the sound of his deep humming— it had been such a clear picture in his mind before he’d come downstairs and found her standing in his place. 

“What— what about you?” he rasped, trying to keep his breathing level. There was a panic crawling up his sore, throat, though. “Have you eaten? Did you sleep?”

She gave him a smile. “I ate while I was writing the other islands.” Now that he thought about it, she’d still been awake and fending off demanding villagers when he crawled upstairs and passed out on the bed. “I’m fine,” she assured him, setting the plate down on the cramped table and crossing the room. She couldn’t reach his lips from where he stood a couple steps up, so she grabbed his hand and gave his knuckles a kiss. 

It was supposed to be a brief brush of affection— she began to pull away, to return to whatever task she was currently tackling— but he gripped her hand tight before she could go. She turned back, brows raised as if expecting a question, but then she must have seen the expression he was trying to control. 

“Oh, Hiccup…” she breathed, face falling, and then she was climbing the steps between them so that his head could fall on her shoulder. 

There weren’t any tears this time— maybe he’d cried them all yesterday. But his ragged breathing felt like sobs in his chest, his sore heart battering painfully in his ribcage. His fingers found her waist and turned to knots in the fabric of her shirt. She pressed kisses to his temple, his ear, his neck, while her hands reached around him to smooth over his back. 

The pressure felt like it was crushing him. A village, suddenly in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to  _be_  like this. He was supposed to be older, wiser. He was supposed to have his father with him every step of the way— that’s what he’d promised before Hiccup flew away in a panic. Leading him, guiding him, supporting him until he could handle it on his own. He wasn’t supposed to wake up with hundreds of lives bearing down on his shoulders with no direction, no focus, no father. This wasn’t how he was supposed to become chief.

“I don’t know how to  _do_ this,” he coughed into her collarbone, shaking his head and trying to gasp for air. “I don’t know if I can do it without him.”

“Shh.” Her own shaky exhale was warm against his shoulder. “You can. You’re alright. You’re not alone, Hiccup.”

“I was so  _stupid.”_ The guilt was tearing him in two. “I was  _stubborn_  and  _naive_ , and it got him killed.”

“No,” she refuted, her lips pressed into his hair. “No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He wished he could stop shaking. Wished he could let go of her shirt and take a deep breath and get on with his day. His grief had seemed like a distant thing since returning to Berk, a minor priority with so much to be done. It had been like the quiet before an avalanche, before the brunt of it came crashing down and buried him alive. His knees felt weak. He lowered himself until he was sitting on the stairs and buried his face into her stomach. His arms laced around her waist and crushed her close. 

His dad would’ve been so proud of how she’d been handling things, keeping villagers and dragons alike in line and designating jobs to lighten the load. He’d loved talking village-life with her, pointing out the duties that would be her responsibility after the fall. They got along so well, bonded over dragon racing and wrangling  _him._ She’d blushed and grinned when he told her to call him  _Dad._ The thought of having the wedding without him suddenly seemed unimaginable. 

Hiccup felt Toothless nudge his shoulder and whine. The sad little sound made his heart squeeze. His hand fumbled for him, finding the strap of his dragon’s saddle and holding it tight. 

“Stay by me,” he croaked, his words muffled by Astrid’s shirt. “Both of you. I can’t— I need you beside me if I’m gonna make it.”

“We’re here,” she promised, her voice teary but soothing. Her fingers combed through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. She gave a sniff, and Toothless warbled as if in agreement. “We’re not leaving.”

He shuddered with another heavy sob. Toothless laid his head on his knee. 

Once his dad called him a sword, long ago when Hiccup was too young to even lift such a weapon. When he’d asked, the chief ruffled his hair and told him that his son gave him the courage to fight on. “We’re shields for the ones we love. And the ones we love become our swords.”

Hiccup was wrong— there  _were_  more tears to be shed. He felt them stinging his eyes and dampening his betrothed’s shirt. His arm tightened around her, and she leaned over to press a kiss into his hair. 

His family would become his sword. And she would be the softest shield he’d ever known.

 


End file.
